


Ser Jaime Lannistarth

by corys_the_bosmer



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Happily Ever After, Post season 8 (hopefully), Romance, snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 21:16:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17988659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corys_the_bosmer/pseuds/corys_the_bosmer
Summary: The war against the dead is over, Jaime and Brienne are living on Tarth.





	Ser Jaime Lannistarth

**Author's Note:**

> Just a piece of fluff inspired by the wet, windy weather we’ve been having where I live. Today has definitely been a day to stay indoors where it’s warm. And some stories just write themselves, you know?

Jaime watched as Brienne patiently cleaned Oathkeeper with an oiled rag. Not that the blade needed it. The rippled Valerian steel gleamed in the firelight, still as perfect as the day it had been forged. 

Outside, sleet fell hard against the windows, and the occasional rumble of thunder could be heard over the howling wind. 

Inside the only sound was the crackling of the fire and the gentle swish of cloth on steel. 

Brienne seemed lost in thought, barely aware of Jaime’s presence as he sat next to her on the cushioned bench. He enjoyed watching her work, admiring the way her strong, skillful fingers moved over the sword. He thought about what else he’d like her to do with those fingers, and moved closer to her, resting his head on her shoulder. 

She paused her work to smile down at him, before returning her attention to the blade. After a few more wipes with the rag, she held it out for him to inspect. 

“Perfect,” he told her. 

With another smile, Brienne stood up and walked over to the fireplace, returning the sword to its usual place. Its blade was crossed with his own sword, Widow’s Wail, mounted in front of a wooden shield painted with their Lannistarth sigil - a gold lion on quartered blue and red, surrounded by crescent moons and starbursts. 

The new sigil had been Jaime’s idea. It was his way of showing the people of Tarth that he and Brienne were equals, to reassure them that the Kingslayer hadn’t come to take over. It had given him no small amount of satisfaction to know how much his father would have hated it. 

A lion might not care for the opinions of sheep, but Jaime had found that he very much cared about the opinions of the people of his new home. It hadn’t taken him long to start thinking of the island that way. They had barely been there six months and it already felt more like home to him that Kings Landing ever had. 

Maybe it’s just because it’s where Brienne is, Jaime thought. A leaky hovel would feel like home as long as she was with me. 

Brienne returned to sit next to him, and Jaime grabbed a woollen blanket from the end of the bench and threw it over their legs. Brienne curled her legs up on to the seat, tucking the blanket around herself and leaning against the cushioned back. 

Jaime put his right arm through her left and leant against her. For a time they just watched the flames dancing in the hearth, enjoying the warmth and closeness of each other. 

It fascinated Jaime how different fire could be, at times dangerous, terrifying and destructive, but at other times warming and reassuring, the comfort of home. That’s what Brienne is, he thought. That’s what he’d found in her arms. Warmth and strength and comfort. A candle in the darkness. A home. 

He looked up at her, gently caressing her face before kissing her, soft and slow. She rested her head against his. 

“Are you tired?” he asked. 

“A little,” she replied. 

Since Lord Selwyn’s death both of them had been kept busy. Tarth might not be a large place, but the people had needed a lot of reassurance that their new lord and lady would take care of them. 

Jaime knew he’d never enjoy politics, but he found that he didn’t mind the responsibility of lordship, not since he had Brienne to share it with. He actually cared about the people of Tarth, and sitting in meetings didn’t bore him the way it used to. 

“We only have a few people we need to talk to tomorrow,” he told her, “then maybe we’ll have a few days to ourselves.”

“That would be nice,” she replied. 

Jaime put his hand tenderly on her stomach where it was already starting to swell. 

“What do you think it is?” she asked. “A boy or a girl?”

“I don’t know.”

“What would you like it to be?”

“I don’t mind,” Jaime told her. He thought for a moment. “I think I’d like a girl.”

“You wouldn’t rather have a son?”

Jaime considered that. 

“No, I’d like a daughter. With blonde hair and blue eyes, just like her mother.”

He smiled. 

“Then the next one could be a son.”

“The next one?” Brienne asked, amused. 

“Uh huh. And then another son. Then maybe another girl.”

“How many children do you think we’re going to have?”

Brienne was still smiling, but Jaime pretended to give the question serious consideration. 

“Hmm. About seven.”

“Seven?”’Brienne repeated. She shook her head. 

“I think you might be asking a bit too much, Ser Jaime. 

“Forgive me, my lady,” he replied, matching her mock formality with his own. “I was merely thinking about how much fun we could have making them all.”

He grinned and Brienne shook her head again, amusement and affection on her face. She kissed him before leaning her head on his shoulder. 

“You can teach them how to fight,” Jaime told her. 

“The girls too?”

“Of course. It wouldn’t do for any child of Ser Jaime and Lady Brienne not to know how to use a sword.”

“You can teach them too.”

“I suppose you could teach them how to fight right-handed, and I could teach them how to use their left. They’d be able to duel-wield, like Arthur Dayne. And then one day they’ll be the most famed knights in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“I think you’re getting carried away again, Jaime,” Brienne told him. 

“Probably,” he agreed. 

He drew the blanket up higher and snuggled closer to her. Brienne stroked his hair. 

They stayed like that for a while, watching the fire, as the winter storm raged outside. The Stormlands had been living up to their name since he and Brienne arrived on Tarth, but the weather didn’t frighten Jaime. Tarth was his home. And with Brienne by his side, he’d never be afraid of anything again.


End file.
